


The Ties that Bind

by Unforth



Series: Tumblr Ficlets: Other Fandoms [13]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Background Peter Burke/Elizabeth Burke - Freeform, Bondage, Bottom Neal Caffrey, Dom Peter, M/M, Open Relationships, Past Neal Caffrey/Kate Moreau, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Top Peter Burke, sub neal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 08:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11459433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Ficlet written to the prompt: White Collar Peter/Neal Dom Peter/Sub Neal with bondage and/or shibari





	The Ties that Bind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnwoundBobbin (LizzieC)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieC/gifts).



> From time to time I put out calls for prompts, and I fill them! This story is a prompt fill for UnwoundBobbin, who sent me this request:  
> White Collar Peter/Neal Dom Peter/Sub Neal with bondage and/or shibari
> 
> Interested in requesting a prompt of your own? I have an AO3 post where I periodically take prompts, so subscribe to me or subscribe to the "[Call for Prompts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11408007)" post, and next time I ask for prompts, why not [drop me a note](unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com/ask)?

The familiar rhythms of the debriefing room made a symphony around Neal. Diana rose, loaded a powerpoint, her voice melodic as she discussed which aspects of the case were conclusively closed as opposed to which suggest further avenues for investigation, further individuals who, with more evidence, could be brought up for indictment. Jones interjected from time to time, but the others sat silently, watching, and Neal allowed his attention to wander.

As usual, he was several steps ahead of his cohort of FBI allies.

All but one of the people listed were dupes, and the last was far too wily for the Agents to catch him. Leaning back in his chair, Neal ostensibly kept his eyes on the screen, but his attention focused on the rub of ropes against his skin, the feel of twine against the most sensitive places of his body, the contrast between the coarse hemp and the plush fabrics of his suit.

Neal knew many secrets, about the case they’d just finished, about the people on Diana’s list, about every Agent in the room, but the shibari tie binding him and freeing him was all his, entirely his own, and he loved it for that. As wonderful a dom as she’d been, Kate had never understood why Neal loved to be bound. She’d humored him because she knew it brought him pleasure, had even tried it herself in an attempt to better relate, but she had thought the ropes constraining, found the rigid, repetitious control of making the knots and looping the lengths around Neal’s body to be unremarkable. Neal had tried and tried to explain to her that the free-spiritedness that marked their lives _needed_ a counterpoint, that the feel of ropes wrapped around his torso, pressing into his skin with every breath, was the restraining hand on his shoulder, the reminder that actions had consequences, the ever-present tie that bound, literally and metaphorically. Neal _was_ Neal, wheeling, dealing, charismatic, daring, because he _never_ forgot the potential consequences, not when he had a tie hidden beneath his suit, and at the same time, the tie _kept_ him Neal. No matter what persona he assumed, no matter what con he ran, when he felt the abrasion of coiled rope against his skin, he _knew_ who he was.

“Neal.” Peter’s sharp voice cut into Neal’s reverie. He’d drifted too far, lost himself too much in _himself_ , let his eyes slip shut. Instinct suggested he startle back to alertness but the ropes grounded him, helped him control his reaction, and he lazily opened his eyes, smirked, met Peter’s eyes.

A shiver ran down Neal’s spine.

Somehow, Peter knew _exactly_ what Neal had been thinking.

As usual, frustratingly, Peter was several steps ahead of Neal.

“Care to share with the class?” Peter asked with that wry turn of phrase that never failed to shiver through Neal’s skin like a touch.

Neal had _never_ had to explain to Peter the appeal of being imprisoned. Peter understood implicitly the joys of capturing another, of being captured by another, and with his wife’s _blessing_ Peter had exercised that authority over Neal.

If Neal had understood the kind of people the Burkes were, he’d have let himself get caught much sooner.

“Forget about Estrada, Barber and McGuire – they’re dupes,” said Neal, eying the names Diana had singled out. “Floyd is up to _something_ but she doesn’t know anything about _this_ – amazing what a scheming woman can fall for when she’s hit in her blind spot. Christensen, though – there’s pay dirt there.”

“Is there any point in asking how you know that?” said Peter with resignation. Neal shot him a dazzling smile and got a quirked eyebrow in reply. Oh, yeah, Peter knew _exactly_ the score. Anticipation burned hot through Neal, quickened his heartbeat, sped the breaths that caused the rope to dig into his sides. He clenched inadvertently around the plug Peter had put in him that morning, dick seeming to pulse in time to his heartbeat, and sweat slickened his palms.

Maybe Neal needed to wear the shibari tie more often. His self-control was slipping.

_No. Only Peter can do this to me – only he has this effect on me. Not even Kate, not even Alex, no one else…only for him…_

“Fine,” Peter snapped.

_He’s angry. I love it when he’s angry. I love—_

Neal cut off that line of thinking and focused on his friend, his handler, his lover, his dom, as Peter continued, “Meeting dismissed.” Diana squawked protest, gesturing at her powerpoint and flicking to the next slide to demonstrate how much more she had to go over, but Peter cut her off with a single shake of his head. Even when interacting with people who _weren’t_ his subs, Peter – so apparently guileless, bumbling, and sweet – took control automatically, easily, effortlessly. It was stunning to behold. Neal’s dick thickened against the ropes woven around his crotch. “I know you’re on it, Diana,” Peter said. “Jones, get to work on the Christensen file. Neal, my office, now.”

“Yes, sir,” said the attending FBI agents in chorus, rising and heading single-file from the room.

“Yes, sir,” Neal said as the door closed behind the last, smirking.

“What, you’d rather I do it _here_?” asked Peter. “With windows looking out over the entire work floor? I will, you know. Push me hard enough and I will bend you over this table and put you in your place.”

Neal’s eyes widened, his mouth went dry, his pulse raced. After two years, Neal knew _exactly_ when Peter was being serious, exactly when _not_ to sass his dom.

 _He…he_ means _that._

“Sorry, sir,” Neal breathed, as close to contritely as he was capable of. “I’ll tell you about Christensen, if you want.”

“Oh yeah, you will,” said Peter, breaking into a slow smile. “But first…” He gestured toward the door. Rising tightened the ropes embracing Neal, walking tugged them and moved them, and he had never been more thankful for the loop that tucked his cock between his legs, more relieved that he _wasn’t_ showing the tent of his erection to the entire White Collar division. Non-chalant, he sauntered to Peter’s office, keenly aware of Peter’s heavy footfalls behind him.

He stepped into the office.

Peter stepped in behind him.

The lock clicked as Peter turned it.

The shutters clattered and rattled as Peter lowered them.

Two steps took Neal behind Peter’s desk. Trembling with anticipation, need, desire, he bent at the waist, pressed his chest to the wood, lifted his ass into the air. Straining his neck to keep his head raised enough that he could watch Peter, Neal offered him a smile. He loved watching slow pleasure dawn like morning sunshine over Peter’s face.

“Good boy,” Peter murmured.

Warmth suffused Neal and he relaxed against the desk with a sigh. Peter stepped behind him, eased his pants down, eased the plug out of him, eased his hard cock in, and Neal was _owned_ , in control, the perfect sub in command of the perfect dom, and all was right with the world.

Peter’s hands gripped the ropes and tugged them tight.

Biting his lip to keep silent, Neal let rapture surround him, fill him, and reveled in the joy of finally, _finally,_ completing the perfect con, finding the perfect situation for himself.

He’d not have guessed this would be his place, but Neal wouldn’t change where he was – figuratively in life, literally in Peter’s office getting fucked over his desk – for all the world.

“Thank you, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr at [unforth-ninawaters](unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com).


End file.
